`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil!By that Heaven that bends above us – by that God we both adore –Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore –Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?’Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’